The Prince's Bride
by Turoru
Summary: When young Peter Kirkland finds himself sick in bed, his "parents" read him a story to pass time.  And through a fairytale full of sports, fencing, fighting, tortures, revenge, giants, pirates, escapes, and miracles, Peter learns the power of true love.
1. Stories

**Disclaimer: **I don't own these characters, Hetalia, or the Princess Bride. I'm too lame. :/

* * *

The young blonde grumbled about his ailments, burrowing further beneath the thick comforters tucked around him as he tried to ignore the dull ache coursing throughout his body and the relentless chills. Being sick was never fun - especially not for a twelve-year-old boy. If not for the terrible dizziness that overtook him if he sat up straight or the waves of nausea that would strike without warning, then Peter Kirkland would most definitely be taking advantage of this; after all, what kid _didn't _want days out of school to slack and play video games? Peter couldn't even find it in himself to groan and turn his back to the door as he heard it creak open; leave it to his mom to come and harass him as he lay in anguish….or even worse, his dad.

"Peter, how are you feeling?"

The child rolled his bright blue eyes dramatically at his ceiling, using every ounce of strength (that wasn't running his mouth or producing witty backtalk) into rolling onto his side to face his mother.

"How do I _look_, mom?"

Silence settled over the room quickly as the individual in the door shifted nervously.

"I've told you, Peter…I'm not your mom. I'm a boy."

"Yeah, whatever, Mom."

The poor, uncomfortable man sighed, but plowed right past his "son's" terse replies and onto the subject that brought him here in the first place. Other than, of course, maternal concern.

"Um, well...Berwald has a story that he wants to read to you. You know, to help you feel better," Peter's "mother" stated as he settled himself carefully on the edge of the bed, patting the ill boy's leg with what he hoped was a comforting "it really sucks to be you right now, even if you can be a brat" smile.

"Whoa. Dad can read? Really?"

A thoughtful expression flashed across the Finnish man's face before he replied, "Well, he picked out a book for me to read to you."

Peter frowned, drawing a quick "But that's not a nice thing to say about Berwald at all! Mind your manners, Peter" from a rather distraught Fin.

"L'sten t' y'r m'th'r."

As if on cue, Berwald appeared in the doorway with an old volume tucked beneath his arm, lips pressed into a thin line as he nodded curtly at his "wife's" sheepish smile. The towering Swede wasted no time in joining the pair on the bed, gently placing the book in his partner's lap.

With another roll of his eyes, Peter mumbled, "this should be fun." Both parents gave him a rather upset look.

"Sh'ld I g't the b'x, Tino?"

"No…let's just read him the story," Tino replied a little apprehensively.

Peter slipped further beneath his covers, more than a little worried about being put in his box, again; after expressing his (rather odd and ill-placed) hatred of England, his adoptive father decided it to be a good idea for his time-outs to be spent under a box with "England" written across it. "Let's just let mom read," the child whined from below his snug barrier.

Berwald ducked his head, leaning towards Tino as he mumbled in a low voice. The latter nodded and smiled, lifting the novel and staring intently at the cover.

"Berwald says that this is a special book that will make you feel better if you read it enough. Everyone is his family read it to each other when they were sick, and now h- _we_ can read it to you. He thinks you'll really enjoy it, Peter; it has all of the things you like!"

"So it has sports and the ocean and cool things like that?"

"Of course! Even pirates and monsters, since we know you love them so much."

The twelve-year-old sighed, shifting ever so slightly as he made himself more comfortable. "I guess it won't be too lame, then," he mused as he turned full attention to his mother-that-wasn't-a-woman.

Tino smiled again, apparently not at all bothered by Peter's lack of enthusiasm.

"Alright, Peter. The Prince's Bride, by M. Williams…chapter one."

* * *

**Oh dear lord what have I done. I...huh. I'm not sure what on earth possessed me to write this, other than the encouragement of my two friends and my intense love for both Hetalia and this movie? Auugh, I don't quite know where I'm going with this, but I do have the characters assigned. I refused to start until that was done, lol. Some of them may be painfully obvious, but please work with me.**

**I'm doing my best to be original and add my own spin on this, while staying true to the script of the movie. I'm not quite sure how that's going to work out, or if I'll even finish. If this is interesting enough for others, chances are that I'll finish.**

**I know that, unfortunately, a lot of this characters are going to end up seeming incredibly OOC. I ask for your forgiveness, and that you please understand that I need to work with what I'm given. While I will try to work their canon and headcanon personalities into this, I also have the personalities of the movie's characters to stay true to, as well. Hopefully, you find that my selections for each character are tolerable for matching the personalities as best I can. And while this is not an excuse, it is also my first time writing as a majority of these characters, and I'm still trying to get a feel for them.**

**Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed~**

**Turoruuuuuu**


	2. Kidnappings

**Disclaimer: **Ummm, nope. Still don't own Hetalia or The Princess Bride. Just this fanfic...sort of.

* * *

Natalya was brought up on a modest farm in the country of Florin. She loved to pass her time playing with knives and tormenting the poor, handsome young man that helped around her family's farm. We'll call him Alfred. Yet, Natalya had never called him that.

"_Isn't that beautiful, Peter?" the Fin cooed, beaming over at his partner as their child rolled his eyes yet again._

"_Of course, Mom. I'm crying with how wonderful it is." _

Nothing gave Natalya as much pleasure (well, aside from her knives) than bossing Alfred around. After all, what use was a farmhand that you couldn't push around?

"You there," she demanded as she ambushed the young man in the stables, "polish my blades. I want to see my face shining in them when I use them next."

Alfred smiled and nodded his head as he replied with three simple words.

"As you wish."

With a scowl settled on her pretty face, Natalya thrust her knives towards Alfred and stalked off in a hurry. There was something about this boy, the young maiden decided as she left him working. "As you wish" was all he ever said to her.

The next time Natalya approached Alfred, the blonde was chopping wood, his muscles rippling with each swing of the axe and her young eyes lingering perhaps a bit longer than they should have.

"You there," she spat as she threw empty buckets at him. "Fill these with water for me." She scowled with all her might, pale face flushing as Alfred's dizzying blue eyes searched it. "Please…"

A smile graced his lips as he spoke, "As you wish" and tossed the axe to the ground before he picked up the buckets and carried them off.

The young woman crossed her arms, grimace still firmly distorting her pretty face, and watched the farm boy's back grow smaller and smaller still as he retreated. And, as she stared him down, she was amazed to discover the hidden meaning behind what seemed to be his favorite three words. Why, when he said "as you wish" to her….what he really meant was "I love you."

Even more shocking, still, was that a blushing Natalya soon realized that she, too, was in love with Alfred.

Natalya had been cooking, the day she discovered her feelings. "You there," she murmured softly as Alfred entered the room, her navy eyes focused only on the soft dough that squished between her fingers as she worked. She could feel his eyes on her back, waiting patiently for whatever command she was preparing to throw at him. Natalya took a deep breath, calming herself before turning a cool gaze to her farmhand. "Fetch me that right there," she ordered, pointing a slender finger at a board just barely out of her reach. She kept him fixed in her stare as he moved slowly, closing the much too large gap between them as he reached for the requested item.

"As you wish," he whispered, taking her hand instead as he neared her.

A small smile flashed across Natalya's face, and then she was in Alfred's loving embrace as the-

"_Mom, _ew_. You never said this was a kissing book! Gross! Dad, this stuff made you feel _better _when you were sick?"_

_Berwald grunted in reply as Tino pouted at their "son"._

"_Peter…just let me read." _

However, Alfred had no money to marry his beloved. So, having decided that Florin was no place to make a fortune, he set out to find this fortune across the sea. Natalya was enraged, to say the least, but seethed in a quiet manner as worry gnawed at her heart. So many things could happen to a young man at sea…

The pair lay together beneath a large tree, fingers intertwined as Alfred's calloused fingers twisted and curled in his true love's long hair.

"I fear I'll never see you again," she whispered into his chest, fighting that burning prick of tears in her eyes. Alfred's grip tightened around her, the fingers stilling and removing themselves as he came to rest his palm gently on her cheek, offering up a large grin.

"_Mom, ewww. I can't _believe_ this!"_

"Of course you will…what type of hero disappears forever without his bride?"

"The type of hero who dies," she replied.

Alfred seemed unaffected; he smiled and stole a chaste kiss.

"My love, I will always come back for you. It's what heroes do."

Natalya shook her head, turning her face away. "How can you be so sure, Alfred?"

"What we have is true love. Nothing can stop it, Nat. That's why only heroes have it."

Natalya had nothing to say in reply, and simply kissed her dear Alfred goodbye as they pushed up from the ground to part ways. As she watched his back, growing smaller as he got farther, she couldn't help but have a sinking suspicion… Something was not right. The young woman's suspicions were confirmed several months later, when she received news that Alfred had never reached his destination with some distant family; his ship had been attacked by the Dread Pirate Roberts, who never left his victims alive.

Upon hearing that her true love had been murdered, Natalya was overcome by immense grief. For days, she had locked herself in her room and refused any food. She sat, glassy-eyed, and stared out her window as the sun rose and set. As she sat there, her heart continuously breaking, she could not fight the tears that continued to roll in fat streams down her face and drip off of her chin. "I can never love again," she murmured as the sun's last light faded from her room and face. Silence settled as the tears picked up again, and the heartbroken maiden lowered her head to bury her face in her palms.

"I will never love again."

* * *

Five years came and passed from Alfred's death, and all of Florin was gathering to hear the announcement of the great Prince Francis's bride to be. There was no celebration larger than this, save for the wedding itself. Townsmen and women gathered in the square, chatting and gossiping and enjoying each other's company as the children ran about playing games and performers wove with skill in between them all. Everyone's voices joined together with bleats and calls of animals waiting to be sold and butchered, forming a wonderful chorus of peacetime affairs. The sun slowly dipped below the hills and castle walls, with not a cloud in the sky to damper this wonderful day. As trumpets blasted from the parapets, the din slowly faded to a dull rumble as all faces turned skyward to focus on the royal party.

The small band fanned out as they entered; a young guard with a pleasant face and thick brown hair stepped to the right, followed by a stern-faced man with beautiful green eyes and impossibly thick eyebrows. In the center stood perhaps the most handsome man on Earth; his skin appeared as if it were made of porcelain and his hair was a gorgeous blonde, thick and wavy, while his eyes were perhaps the deepest blue anyone could find in a person. This was the Prince. Beside him stood a hearty man with curly brown hair that was starting to gray and was stooping slightly with his age. To the elder man's side stood (what everyone presumed to be) a woman with long blond hair and looked as if she had just eaten the most sour lemon one could find, followed by a rather young and twitchy blonde guard to her left.

With a rather charming smile, the Prince held up a hand to signal the end of the fanfare, and began his address to the public.

"My people," he began as he clasped his hands across his stomach, "one month from now, our most wonderful country shall have its five-hundredth anniversary. And on that very sundown, I shall wed the most beautiful woman on this Earth. She was once a lowly commoner such as yourselves. But, as I have devoted my heart to her, she is no longer such a low-class citizen. Would you like to meet my bride?"

Everyone in the square let out a uniform roar, throwing their fists into the air in a sign of (what Prince Francis hoped to be) a sign of approval. None the less, he forged through.

"I give you," he bellowed as the crowd turned towards creaking gates, "Princess Natalya."

Natalya, a scowl settled upon her pretty face, tread lightly through the now open gates towards the end of the velveteen carpet spread beneath her feet. Francis had surely done a number on her, to prepare her for this moment. Her gown was an exquisite piece of clothing that clung to and emphasized her figure, a beautiful dress made of pale silk-like material. Her long hair, which shone in the light from the many rich salts and soaps that had been used on it, was twisted and knotted into an extravagant style. And while her cheeks glowed with a healthy blush, her frown silently scared the people away from their new Princess. For, it was merely the law of the lands that led Natalya into this engagement. She simply did not, nor would she ever, love Prince Francis.

Everyday, Francis made sure to set Natalya's worries at ease, to assure her that she would grow to love him as he loved her. And yet, she often only found joy whilst hiding in the kitchen with the cooks, slicing and chopping with the knives. The only _other_ happiness she found came from the solitude and freedom of her daily rides. When she rode, Natalya often felt as if she were flying; this often led her to fall into a deep pit of despair and sorrow by the time her ride was over, as Alfred had often talked of his dreams to someday "capture the sky and fly with the birds". So always, while the sun sat high in the sky, Natalya would have her horse tacked up, and would then set out on a ride to forget where she was and to whom she was engaged.

There was nowhere Natalya didn't ride, in all of Florin. Her favorite spot to ride, though, was through a leaf-littered trail in the forest, where the castle could not see her and she could not see the sky that reminded the princess of her lost love. Here was where she would normally let loose, and let her horse run as fast as it pleased. Yet, as she happened upon an odd band of men stationed in the middle of her trail, Natalya slowed to a stop against her better judgment of running them down. As she scowled at all of them, she couldn't help but notice that they had somehow arranged themselves in order of height, and that the angry-looking man on the far right who was desperately trying to squirm out of the middle man's grasp had a frown that rivaled her own. As he proceeded to shove and curse at the middle man, Natalya took a moment to take them all in.

The angry-looking man, the smallest, had short, straight (except for the oddest of curls that stuck out from the right side of his head), brown hair and large hazel eyes. If he smiled more than he frowned, then perhaps she would have considered him doe-eyed. That was not the case, however, as it appeared to Natalya that this man scowled even more than she. Next was the middle man, with a large smile and light laugh. He, with more of a tan than either of his companions, had beautifully dark curls and wonderfully green eyes. He seemed the pleasant sort of fellow, the kind that brought a tiny smile twitching to Natalya's lips against her will. Last was the quiet one, a large fellow with pale skin and pale hair, a scarf despite the unusually warm fall weather, nearly-purple eyes, and a smile that twitched as if her presence made him nervous. Natalya scowled at him and the smile twitched more. He was then moved partially out of her field of vision as the happy man crashed into him and the now free angry man demanded her attention.

"A word, my lady?" he drawled in an odd accent. The happy man giggled, which earned a glare from his smaller friend, and then angry-man was facing her yet again.

"We are but poor, lost circus performers" he explained, minus the accent, as he crossed his arms and grimaced up at her. "Is there a village nearby?"

Natalya glowered back and replied, "There's nothing here, not for miles. I suggest you all curl up for warmth and then die because no one finds you before you freeze or starve to death."

The angry-looking man made a choked noise, happy man immediately latching onto him and countering with soothing "shh" noises as he stroked his back, and the giant eased closer towards her side.

"Then," angry man spat as he squirmed against happy man, "there'll be no one to hear your fucking screams!"

A puzzled expression crossed Natalya's face, and she almost thrashed out once the giant's hands were around her neck. Yet, she didn't get the time before she fainted. The giant caught her as she slumped on her horse, and heaved her effortlessly over his shoulder as happy man released the tiny angry man in favor of catching the horse before it fled.

"Come on, you sorry bastards," angry man hissed as he stalked off. Happy man looked to the giant and smiled, shrugging before following after him.

"Ayy, Lovi! Wait up, we have the Princess!"

"Fuck you, Antonio!"

Antonio sighed, tugging on the horse's lead as he smiled at the giant again. "Ay, what can you do? Vamos, Ivan! We have a Sicilian to catch up to!"

* * *

**So, um...this is it for this chapter/update. I originally planned on it being much shorter. And then I planned on it being much longer. And, my friends, we ended up with it here in the middle. It took me forever to decide whether or not to change "Roberts" to some Hetalia name, but in the end it stayed. This story'll probably be updated very slowly, because I watch (or listen to) the movie as I type, so I know where exactly I'm going with it. Anyways. Now everyone should hopefully know who Count Rugen ended up being! If not, shame on you. I really hope that I have more free time, soon, and that this'll move along faster. Thanks for the reviews and faves this got~ It really doesn't deserve it. Aha..ha.**

**Anyway, tell me what you think! Are some of the characters too OOC? Think a certain character should get a certain part? Think that this is HORRIBLE? Tell me! I don't bite. C:**

**Turoruuuuuuu 3**


	3. Eels

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Hetalia or The Princess Bride, I'd be one rich gal. Sadly, I own neither and am therefore broke.

* * *

The small Sicilian scowled at his work, standing close beside the princess's horse as he ripped angrily at the cloth in this hands.

"What is that you're ripping, Lovinito?"

"The uniform of a Guilder army officer, you dumbass. And don't call me by that lameass name.

The towering Russian looked over from his post on the ship, his attention slowly drifting from the knots he was tying to his boss. "Who's 'Guilder'?"

Lovino scowled, tucking the newly-freed emblem to the horse and letting it loose. "It's the country across the stupid sea," he grunted. Slapping the horse to startle it and stepping back with a satisfied smirk, he continued "the sworn enemies of Florin, you fucking idiot. Once the horse reaches the castle-"

"_If_ the horse reaches the castle," Antonio added cheerily.

His companion stared at him for a moment, mouth slightly agape as if he couldn't believe the Spaniard had just interrupted him. "Shut the fuck up, you tomato bastard. Once the horse reaches the castle, _which it most definitely will_, then that prissy bastard of a Prince will see the emblem and suspect the Guildarians of abducting his one true love!" He snickered, rolling the fabric idly between his fingers as he stepped across the gangplank and onto the small ship. "And when they find her dead body on the Guilder frontier, then he'll have no reason to doubt it was them," he sneered.

Ivan's face contorted in confusion, piecing it together as Lovino tossed the fabric to the side and Antonio bounded towards the wheel. "You never said we were going to kill her, comrade."

"Look, asshole. I hired you to help me start a war! It's very prestigious business, much more than that shitty 'art' thing my stupid little brother is doing. This line of work is a long and glorious tradition."

"I just don't think it's right," the giant replied solemnly, glancing down at the sleeping captive. "Killing an innocent girl…"

The tiny man frowned, setting his jaw bitterly as he crossed his arms. "Am I going mad," he spat, "or did the word _think_ just escape your lips! I didn't fucking hire you for your brains, you dumb fuck!"

The Spaniard turned to face them both, biting back a quiet sigh and leaning against the ship's wheel. "I agree with Ivan, Lovino."

"Oh, now the _ass_ has spoken! What happens to her doesn't concern either of you two idiots! I'll kill her!" The volatile Sicilian stomped towards the Spanish man, who now looked as if he wished he could retreat. "And remember this," he hissed, fisting a hand in Antonio's shirt and yanking him down so that he could scream in his face. "_Never_ forget this! When I found you, you were so _slobbering drunk_, you couldn't buy _brandy!_" He dropped the cloth and turned harshly towards the once-forgotten Ivan. "And you! Friendless. Brainless. Hopeless!" Lovino sneered, stepping closer towards the giant as a nasty smirk grew on his pale face. "Do you want me to send you _back_ to where you were! Unemployed in Russia?"

The two stared at each other for what seemed like ages before Lovino sighed dramatically and retreated to busy himself with something. Ivan continued to stare after him, his face a cloudy mix of various emotions. Antonio clicked his tongue, shaking his head quickly before hopping down to join his … coworker.

"Don't mind Lovino, amigo. He tends to _fuss._"

Ivan smiled, stroking his chin momentarily in thought. "Fuss…fuss….. I think that he likes to scream at _us."_

"Of course, he doesn't mean any _harm._"

"He's really very short on _charm_," the Russian giggled, earning a very venomous glare from the topic of the "discussion".

Antonio beamed, clapping the giant on the arm in a friendly manner. "You have a great gift for rhyme!"

"Yes, yes" Ivan cooed. "Some of the time."

Lovino growled, jabbing a finger at the pair accusingly. "Enough of that, you bastards!"

The Spaniard shook his head, turning glittering green eyes towards his friend. "Ivan, are there rocks ahead?"

"If there are," he bellowed, "we'll all be dead!"

"No more rhymes, dammit! I mean it!"

For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind smacking the sails and the ocean water lapping at the sides of the small vessel. Then, with a crooked little grin, Ivan spoke.

"Anybody want a peanut?"

Startled, birds flew from the trees as a piercing shriek echoed about; the Sicilian had reached his breaking point.

* * *

The small band sailed for hours, the sun slowly dipping down and letting an inky night blanket the open sea. Murky water swirled around them as they tried to settle, waiting patiently for when the time came to go back ashore. Natalya, awake now, sat bitterly in her small corner, glaring icily at each man in turn.

"We'll reach the cliffs by dawn," Lovino announced dryly.

Everyone's head, as if on a hinge of some sort, swiveled to meet his seething glare before returning to what they were doing before. Antonio looked over his shoulder, squinting his eyes at the horizon as if there were something catching his fancy in the dark.

"Why do you keep doing that!"

Antonio smiled at the water, neglecting to look back at whom he was addressing. "I am making sure that nobody follows us."

"That would be _inconceivable_" he scoffed.

"Despite what you think, you will be caught."

All three men turned to stare at the once silent princess.

"That, or I will get free and kill you all."

The leader laughed, though the hint of anxiety did not go unnoticed by his men. He took a moment to compose himself, returning to the unpleasant scowl so commonly settled upon his face.

"Of all the necks on this boat, your highness, the one you should be worrying about is your own."

Silence was then a blanket that covered the ship and it's occupants with a heavy feeling of tension. Antonio lost interest, turning back to stare behind them. Lovino didn't fail to notice this, bristling all over again.

"Stop that, dammit! Just relax, already! We're almost there, you dumbass!"

"You are sure there's nobody following us?"

He snorted, shaking his head as if the stupidity of the Spaniard was absolutely inconceivable. "I already told you, Antonio! That's absolutely, totally, and in every other fucking way _inconceivable!_ No one in Guilder knows what we've done, and no one in Florin could've possibly gotten here that fast! Out of curiosity, why do you ask?"

Antonio smiled, jerking his thumb over his shoulder while simultaneously giving a half shrug. "It's just, suddenly I happened to look behind us and something is there."

A moment passed as the information sunk in, but before long both Ivan and Lovino were on their feet and rushing towards the bow. And, sure enough, a small speck of a boat was drifting on the horizon. The Sicilian man scowled, nervously running a hand through his hair as his brain scrambled to think of an excuse.

"That? That's nothing! Probably some dumbass fisherman out for a pleasure cruise."

"At night," his companions echoed unsurely.

"Yes, dammit! At night!"

"Through eel infested waters, Lovinito?"

"Shut the fuck up, Antonio."

What the men didn't know was that, while they were fussing over the ship in the distance, silent Natalya was using this distraction to quietly hoist herself up over the edge of the boat. They weren't alerted to her escape attempts until it was too late; it took the sudden splash to make them notice. Natalya did her best to swim as fast as she could, trying to get as far away from the boat as possible. After all, she had no idea how soon her captors would come after her.

Lovino quickly found himself in a rage. "What the hell are you waiting for! Go in and get her," she screamed at the others as he flung himself at the side of the ship.

Antonio gave him a bewildered look. "I don't swim!"

"I only doggy-paddle," Ivan offered cheerily.

Lovino screamed in frustration again, stomping his feet angrily as he tried to spot the maiden. "Veer left, you useless bastards! Left, left! God dammit, Antonio! Don't you know what your fucking left is!" The Sicilian continued to scream profanities as Ivan tapped his shoulder, motioning for him to listen.

Even after Lovino had shut his mouth, a dreadful screech continued to rise up around them all, seemingly coming out of nowhere. As it grew louder, the small Italian grinned, rubbing his hands together quickly. "Do you know what that sound is, highness?"

Natalya frowned, stopping where she was to look around, also trying to find the source of the noise. Apparently, this man knew more than she as to the origins.

"Those are the shrieking eels! If you don't believe me, just wait! They always grow louder when they're about to feed on human flesh!"

All of a sudden, the princess felt a strong, scaled body brush against her back, tugging at the soaked fabric of her dress. She gasped in surprise (not fear, for she had nothing to fear now that Alfred was gone and nothing could be worse than that) and turned to face it; she saw only the moonlight reflecting off razor-sharp teeth before the eel snapped it's jaws shut and circled around her.

Lovino snickered, reaching a hand over the edge of the ship and beckoned to Natalya. "If you swim back now, I promise that no harm will come to you. I doubt you'll get such an offer from the eels," he sneered.

She tried to scowl back at him, to show how much she despised him, but the gesture was cut short as the eel that had turned back to her demanded her attention. It opened it's mouth wide, screeching at her as it sliced through the water straight for her. Another gasp tumbled from her lips as she drew back, swearing she could see her own reflection in the teeth that seemed only inches from her face.

"_Oh, Peter! She doesn't get eaten by the eels!"_

"…_..What?"_

_Tino smiled. "The eel doesn't get her! I'm only telling you because you looked so worried!"_

_Peter frowned, shifting inside his little cocoon of a comforter. "Oh, I… I wasn't that worried."_

_The child's mother figure smiled, giving a knowing glance to his partner. Berwald grunted in response._

"_Ok! So, maybe I was a little _concerned_, but that's not being worried!"_

"_We could stop now, if you want. You should be getting pretty tir-"_

"_No! I mean, you could read some more…if you want."_

"_Let's see… 'Do you know what that sound is, highness? Natalya frowned, stop-"_

"_No, you passed that, already! You've already read it, mom!"_

_The Finn laughed. "Ok, I'm sorry! It's alright, Peter, don't get so worked up, now. Let's see… she's in the water, and then the eel…and then….oh, here we go!"_

Another gasp tumbled from her lips as she drew back, swearing she could see her own reflection in the teeth that seemed only inches from her face. And then, before she knew it, there was a loud thud and the eel was gone. Strong hands lifted her out of the water, gently setting her against the rough wood of the ship's deck.

"Put her down," Lovino commanded. "Just put her down!" Apparently, he hadn't noticed she was already well out of the Russian's grasp; for some reason, he refused to stay any closer to Natalya than he needed to.

As his little friend worked on binding the princess, Antonio took it upon himself to check once again on the boat in the distance. He frowned at it for a moment, then turned to face the angry Italian. "I think they're getting closer, Lovi!"

"He's no concern of ours," he spat in response. "Sail on!"

Antonio did as he was told; Lovino returned his attention back to the drenched royal. "I suppose you think you're brave."

"Only compared to some," she responded coldly.

The two stared at each other for a moment, sizing up the opponent with equally foul expression. The Italian clicked his tongue and, once satisfied with his knots, left her to dry and to go harass either Ivan or Antonio. Natalya sat alone until the sun rose and cliffs began to overtake the seemingly endless sky.

"Look!" Antonio cried out suddenly. "He's right on top of us!" His traveling mates stared tiredly up at him, as he looked up at the sails in deep thought. "I wonder if he is using the same wind we is using."

For what seemed like the umpteenth time, Lovino stared at him in disbelief. "If we're going the same direction, he has to be using the same wind, you dumbass! Besides, whoever he is, he's too late!" He grinned, pointing at the cliffs that towered before them. "The Cliffs of Insanity! Hurry up! Move that …. That thing! And that other thing! Move those things, you fucking bastards!"

Before long, Lovino and his gang had successfully maneuvered the ship safely into a small alcove, unaware of the boat trailing closely behind them. "We're safe," he announced enthusiastically as he rushed to grab the princess. "Only Ivan is strong enough to go our way! That bastard will have to sail around for hours before he finds a port!"

Antonio helped their giant friend into a harness as Lovi and Natalya stood by, waiting anxiously as the other ship continued to drift even closer. Everyone's movements were rushed, save for Natalya. She squirmed, trying to escape her captors as the bubbly Spaniard helped her into a harness attached to Ivan's. Once she was there, both and Lovino clambered onto their friend's back and they were off.

The giant Russian grunted, pulling hard at the rope and propelling all four from the gravely surface below their feet and began to scale the monstrous cliffs. They had already climbed more than half way up the rope by the time their pursuer had leaped off his boat.

"He's climbing the rope," Antonio murmured, awestruck. "And he's gaining on us."

"Inconceivable," Lovino muttered, equally enthralled by the man's speed. "Faster, Ivan!"

"I thought I was going faster..!"

"You were _supposed_ to be this colossus! You were this _great legendary thing!_ And yet, he _gains!_"

Ivan grunted again. "Well, I am carrying three people! And he's got only himself!"

"I will not accept your fucking excuses! I'll just have to find myself a new giant, that's all!"

"Don't say that, Lovino. Please?"

The Sicilian huffed, glancing down at the ever-gaining black-clad figure before glaring back at Ivan. "Did I mention your job was at stake!"

The rest of the climb was in silence, except for the occasional cry of sea birds or waves crashing against the rocks. Antonio was the first to wiggle out of his harness and onto the steady ground of the cliff top, barely missing a beat as he turned to help the princess next. Natalya curled into a ball, dead set on being more of a nuisance than moping and feeling sorry for herself. Lovino was the next to be helped up, and once he was also safe on the top, Ivan hoisted himself up and brushed the pebbles and dust off of his clothes. The small Sicilian also wasted no time in getting to his task; once he was certain Ivan was off the rope, he scrambled for the rock to which the rope had been secured and drew his dagger, immediately sawing at the rough lead.

Once he had successfully cut through, he threw it to the ground and watched it slither away and slip off of the edge. The three men all looked at each other, a guilty feeling of excitement and victory swelling up inside of Lovino's gut. Antonio and Ivan stepped cautiously to the edge, both peering over before exchanging a small look.

"He has very good arms."

Lovino soon joined them, taking a deep breath and gripping the handle of his blade tight enough to turn his knuckles white. "He didn't _fall!_ Inconceivable!"

"You keep using that word," Antonio mused as he turned to look at his companion. "I do not think it means what you think it means."

"It means whatever the f-"

"Dios mio! He's _climbing!"_

Lovino bristled, miffed about being interrupted as well as having an unplanned factor thrown into his plans. "Well," he spat as he waved the knife about, "whoever he is, he's obviously seen us with the princess and must therefore die!" He jabbed it at Ivan, causing the giant to take a quick step back. "You, carry her. And you" -he jabbed it at Antonio, this time- "We'll head for the Guilder frontier. Meet up with us when you finish with him. If he falls, fine. If not, use the damn sword." The two stared at each other, the Lovino gave an indignant huff and started to stomp off after Natalya and Ivan.

"I'm going to do him left handed."

"You're going to wh- what! You _know_ how much of a hurry we're in!"

Antonio laughed, holding his hand out to the man before him and making a quick fist. "But, it is the only way I can be satisfied! If I use my right, it's over too quickly."

Lovino snorted in reply. "Have it your way, then! Dumbass." He snorted again, shaking his head before crossing his arms in a pout and stomping off.

Ivan set the princess down on her feet, glancing behind him at his friend who was bounding towards the edge of the cliff in excitement, his fingers twitching in anticipation of using his blade once again.

"You be careful," Ivan warned quietly. "Men in masks can not be trusted, comrade.

Antonio smiled, giving a meaningful nod at his friend as they continued to share that special stare of trust.

"I'm _waiting_," Lovino screamed from a ways away.

Ivan gave another small nod to Antonio, then collected the princess and trotted after the impatient leader.

The Spaniard simply continued to shake out his hands, pacing back and forth between a safe spot to practice and the edge of the cliff from where he could spy on the man in black.

Maybe, after years or preparation, the time had finally come.

* * *

**Someone suggested the title "Cracker Be Tripping". If you're reading this, it's here. ALSO, sorry for the long disappearance! Long story short, I got kicked out of my house and then writing because a small priority because my grades started slipping, and then I got kicked out again so now I'm back where I started. Um, so yes. I feel like I've been typing this forever, but I'm only 17 minutes into the movie. Sheesh. Thank you for your reviews! I really, really appreciate them! Also, someone commented on Tino swearing. At first, your review confused me. Then I remembered that Tino's "reading". So, to answer your question, we'll say "NO, TINO DID NOT SWEAR." While he is narrating, yes, we'll just assume that he's keeping the book "kid-friendly" for Peter. The swearing's only in there because it's just not Romano without the swearing.**

**Turoruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu 3**


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